Thursday, 20 November 2014

Thursday Threads Just Sat There and Watched

Not guilty.
How can that be? I don’t understand, the words jumbled in my mind, mocking at my sanity. But I saw his grin, a wink of his eye and I just sat there and watched, watched him seize his new found freedom with both hands. Watched him celebrate, his face all lit up at the chance he had been given, the chance to wring freedom with both hands before stamping his size twelves all over it, like he’d done before.
He smiled. I shivered.
I should have spoken louder, not the pathetic whimper of a coward.
Too late now as his hand was on my shoulder, his grip like a vice.
“Time to go home babe,” he said.
I looked to his shattered victim, too dazed to even shed a tear. Too numb to feel. Her freedom gone.
My freedom all but a dream as he squeezed my hand.
Home. I couldn’t believe he was found not guilty. I wanted freedom, a new life from him, suitcase already packed. But a guilty verdict escaped common sense and justice today. And he’d see the suitcase. See my betrayal. And I, I would see the blur of his size twelve.


Written for Thursday Threads over at The Weird, The Wild and the Wicked. This week's prompt; just sat there and watched.  

Tuesday, 18 November 2014

Horror Bites #12 The Special Offer


  The Special Offer

Fed up with wilting plants?
  Worry no more with our new 
Miracle Fertiliser.
  100% organic ingredients. As natural as nature intended.   
                Alfred read the leaflet with interest, looking out upon his withered flower beds. He’d tried everything without success. The new garden centre in town was just what he needed. And it was the grand opening tonight, promising special offers along with a glass of fizz.
            When Alfred arrived, it was packed but that didn’t stop him noticing the larger than usual potted plants, the champion winning sized vegetables and beautiful, aromatic flowers; brighter, bigger and taller than anything Alfred had ever seen.
          Excitement fuelled him as he hurried around the centre, searching for the fertiliser until a shrill scream stopped him in his tracks. Everyone rushed to the source of the scream and found a woman quivering in front of a bench where an arm hung at a distorted angle.
         Silence fell.
         Fear clenched around Alfred like a fist, wanting explanation but not prepared for the answer.     
        “I guess we’ll have to buy into this,  buy a bag of fertiliser,” a man said next to Alfred. “Ask no questions.” Alfred stared back, horror etched on his face at the acceptance of such an act. “It might be our only way out,” the man said.
       “Yeah, except,” Alfred began, “all I see are very large flowers and vegetables . . . but not one bag of fertiliser for sale . . .  not one . . . anywhere in this entire place . . . Don’t you think that’s odd?”
        “But . . . you can’t mean?” the man spluttered, his face devoid of all colour. Alfred never got a chance to reply as the ceiling opened up to slicing, grinding metal, descending down, cascading the plants in a wash of crimson.

287 excluding title but including advert.  

Thursday, 13 November 2014

Take Care Of Him ThursThreads

I haven't written for ThursdayThreads over at The wierd, The Wild and the Wicked , hosted by Siobhan Muir for like a gazillion years. Thought I'd try it this week and hoping it gets easier! xxx

Jack couldn’t carry on as blood seeped through the bandage wrapped around his thigh, trickling down his leg. He’d told them to just leave him, but Carl refused.
“We’re not far from the river,” began Carl. “We’ll go scout the area, you take care of him, until we get back,”  he ordered Laura. She watched as they were swallowed up by jungle in seconds.
“You’re slowing us down,” Laura whispered. It was a simple mission; retrieve the data, kill a few bad guys and get rescued. But there was no data. Just Jack and he was a liability. “I don’t want to die out here,” she said, kneeling over Jack.
“We won’t. Carl will get us back.”
 She pressed a damp cloth to his forehead. 
Vulnerability crept in along with the night. 
Carl would be back shortly and he wouldn’t go until Jack was ready. She was going to die.
Sliding the cloth down his face, she stopped before pressing hard over his mouth and nose, her knees locking his arms until he became still.
“We’ve sussed out the route,” Carl said, returning not long after. “How’s Jack?”
She knew Carl would check and then they could move out and Laura was already thinking of hot baths.
“We’ve got to back in,” said Carl, still looking down at Jack, noticing a purple tinge around his mouth.
“Jack had the data in his head. And because of you we’re all going back.”


And Yay! It won a Honorable Mention. x


Saturday, 8 November 2014

Remembrance Stan

Friday 9th May 2014
      It’s the perfect spring morning, a bit chilly. There’s a thin coating of  frost on the ground  even though  there’s wall to wall sunshine in a cloudless, blue sky. The bare winter trees are now dressed in their buds of blossom, some have flowers. It’s really pretty. I’m so pleased the weather is perfect because today, I’m going to France, then Belgium, on the ferry, my first time abroad and two countries!
  It’s a special trip. I’m going to see where my Great, Great Granddad ( Stan) is buried. I’ve seen photos of him. He looked really young and handsome. My Dad said he takes after him. It’s the first time we’re all seeing his grave, Nan and Grandad are coming too. It’s hard getting the family tree in my head. But it’s my Nan’s Grandad. It’s her first time too.
   The ferry crossing is OK. Bit boring but better than school. Missing double maths. Cool. The view is amazing though. I can see the white cliffs even though I’m closer to France. France is no different to home except we’re driving on the wrong side of the road. Dad has sworn a few times and Mum is tutting. Trying to write but feeling sick.
     Journey was OK once Dad got used to the roads. Hotel is awesome. In my own room but can hear Mum and Dad talking, well their mumbled voices anyway. Tomorrow, we’re going to the grave, a place called Ypres, in Belgium. Apparently, the whole town was destroyed. I don’t know much about it as we’re just learning about it in school. Mr Gibbs wants lots of photos and a journal of my trip, saying how privileged I am especially as it’s a 100 years since the war started. I don’t know how I feel. I mean I know Stan’s a relative but I don’t know him. And this war was supposed to end all wars. Well, that worked out well ???
     I really wanted to try frogs legs but bottled it. Just had steak although Dad made jokes that it was  horse. Can’t take him anywhere.
    I’m stuffed and tired, bed cosy. Night, night.
Saturday 10th May 2014.
  Off to Belgium
   Missing Kayleigh’s birthday party today. Not impressed. Was OK with it yesterday as missed school but just been on facebook and seen all the plans and fun they’re going to have. Typical. And the weather is rubbish. And now Mum is having a go about the cost of going on the internet. What’s the point of having a mobile if I can’t use it when I’m mobile????
     Arrived in Ypres. So many chocolate shops!!! Of course! Belgian chocolate. Mum is excited. I’m excited! Grandad has bought me some. I might share with Kayleigh for her birthday when I get back. Might.
    Well, the Belgians have no idea about chips! Mayonnaise! Who has mayo on chips? Where’s the Ketchup??? They know how to serve ice cream though!
    Off to the museum now and grave, Apparently, there’s a special ceremony. Mum say’s out of respect to leave my journal at home and pay attention.
   Oh my God! I don’t know what to say! Mr Gibbs! Everyone should come here!
   I’m alone in my hotel room and I can’t stop crying. Apparently, it was 99 years ago today, TODAY that my Great, Great Granddad, Stan, died. He was gassed! There was a massive ceremony, chememorating commemorating the fallen. Over 59 thousand British soldiers died and my Great, Great Granddad was one of them. I can’t believe the carnage! The mud! The explosions! It was awful what they had to live through. The town was obliterated. I saw a model of the town in the museum of the war. Soldiers apparently disappeared in the mud. Stan had a grave. Some didn’t. They’re out there somewhere. And there’s graves that are unknown soldiers. That is so sad.  Rows and rows of  young men. All dead. Stan was only 19. That’s no age, only five years older than me!
    It was really quiet as we walked among the graves. They were really neat and clean, the grass so short and fresh. People come every day to look after them and that makes me so proud.
   The other thing that surprised me were the fields. So full of bright, green grass and poppies. Hundreds of them. It was beautiful. To think those fields were just mud, full of bodies and death, explosions. I can’t imagine it, even though the museum showed me. It’s so hard to imagine. What it must have been like to actually be there, living it, I just can’t imagine. So brave!
    After the graves, we had dinner. We hardly spoke. We were all subdued. But then we walked to the gate. Every night they have this ceremony. And it finishes with a lone trumpet or bugle playing the Last Post. We all cried. Such respect shown for people they don’t know. I love these people.
     I don’t care about Kayleigh’s party. Because of people like my Great, Great Granddad, Stan, she’s able to have one. I’m so pleased Mr Gibbs is teaching us about this war. It’s 100 years since it started and no one is left, Nan says. We have to remember. I’m going to put my feelings into a poem. Miss James wants a poem for English homework. I’m going to ask for a service of remembrance too. I want people to know how brave Stan was, and all the other soldiers from all over the world.
   It’s so quiet now. I think everyone is asleep. It’s so dark outside. I wonder how Stan felt, in the trench knowing he was to fight with all those guns shooting at him,  and bombs falling around him. How do you walk towards that? To certain death? I bet he was terrified. But so brave. So young. Nan said he loved spring, loved the garden coming to life. I bet he hated it here. I still can’t stop crying and I’m rambling.    
  My emotions are so jumbled.   
  Going to try and sleep.
  Night night Stan, your Great, Great Granddaughter, Megan.